ALARIC’S POV
I made up a foolish reason and messaged Glaive Vaelmont, asking for a photograph of her. I don’t even recall what excuse I gave. He sent it without question.
When I opened the file, I stilled. My breath caught. My heart seemed to thud once, then forget how to continue. She was beyond beautiful, an arresting kind of beauty, the kind that silences the world around you. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t look away. That was Quennor’s woman.
A quiet click disrupted the stillness. The office door opened, and someone stepped in without a word. I didn’t turn, I couldn’t. My eyes were still locked on the image on my desk. I only became aware of her presence when she lowered herself before me. Wordless. Bold. Her hands moved with practiced ease, undoing my belt, drawing everything downwar
